


Bodyguard

by Evax3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Assassination Attempt(s), Jon Snow is a detective, M/M, POV Theon Greyjoy, Political Intrigues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robb Stark is King, Sexual Content, Theon works for the police, War Veteran Theon Greyjoy, Westeros is somehow Great Britain, the red wedding is a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3
Summary: As Theon got a new assignment, his whole life changed.-An alternative universe, more than just inspired by Richard Madden's great performance and the whole story of BBC's bodyguard.currently on hiatus. thanks so much for your patience❤️





	Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone :)  
I made it and finished the first part!
> 
> Maybe you've noticed it's a Theon story without Ramsay, but be sure, he still left his marks ... 
> 
> And I'd also like to say, that I don't share Theon, Asha or Balon's world views in any way, but that they had to be as described, to fit the plot. 
> 
> Now, enjoy reading!

It was 2 minutes till 9:00.

The second hand moved slowly and steady over the clock face next to the window, while the cold rain pelted against the pane. Theon had been standing there for a quarter of an hour, waiting and staring at the clock, out of the window, back to his boss.

Who sat at his desk, unflappable, pushing some papers from one pile to another. Papers that could have been left lying around for another 10 minutes. But so was Roose Bolton, always anxious to show Theon who had the say.

So, he stood there, without batting an eyelid, his hands crossed behind his back, eyes straight out and waited.

Exactly on time, when the clock indicated the next full hour, Bolton put the pen aside and turned his gaze at Theon. With eyes paler than stone and darker than milk, small, like two chips of dirty ice. He could never hold it longer than necessary, even if he’d forced himself to do so, often enough. These eyes reminding him. Just too similar to another pair.

“So, Greyjoy, it seems you've already built up a reputation at the branch.”

Theon didn't know what he was talking about. “Sir?”

But Bolton didn't go any further. “You acted as PPO to visiting foreign dignitaries, is that correct?”

“That’s right, Sir.”

Although Theon didn't like him very much, he still thought Bolton did a good job. He hadn't been appointed Chief superintendent if not so.

With an empty expression, he opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a file, holding it out to Theon. “You were personally inquired.”

Theon skimmed the text, unsure what to make of it. Then it dawned on him, repulsion flicking over his face for a second, then he looked up.

Bolten's gaze was directed at him, recognizing his resistance with a slight grin across his lips. “Is there a problem, Sergeant?”

Theon swallowed. “No Sir. Not a problem.”

He closed the folder and gave it back to his boss, and Bolton nodded somewhat smug.

“You start tomorrow. Contact Sir Rodrik Cassel. He’ll give you further instructions.”

Theon bowed slightly and knew he was released with this, turned on his heel and left the office.

His jaw tense, fists clenched, but here being no room to let his frustration run wild. He had to stay focused. It was just another job. At least, he had to keep pretending.

—

The television was running, the voice of his father coming from the living room, when he took off his jacket, throwing his keys on the counter and went to the fridge, searching for a beer. Then he moved over to the others, but stopped in the door frame, leaning against it.

“Look at this waster,” his father commented, for Asha to snort next to him on the couch. “He wants to be prime minister, he's still green behind his fucking ears.”

On the screen, a picture was shown of two young men, shaking hands, smiling for the camera. Its subtitle leaving no room for speculation.

_Throne heir Robb Stark officially supports democracy party._

“Fucking democrats,” Asha sneered, placing her boots on the table in front of her, taking another gulp from her own beer. “They'll ruin the whole damn country.”

“As if they stand a chance.”

Suddenly both heads turned to him, like they’d only just noticed that Theon was even there.

“The fuck are you lurking around back there?” Asha complained, and kicked against the armchair to show him his seat.

But he remained where he stood. “Tywin Lannister owns more than half the country, or at least the better half. You don't think he'll let his grandson lose to someone like that.”

They both faced the screen again, where Renly Baratheon just announced his gratitude, how important it’d be to hold together, for more peace in the world, and whatsoever.

His father was right. What did someone like him know about real life? They boasted about the term _pacifist_, but when the going got tough, they needed soldiers who went to war for them. Those who gave their lives for them.

Theon's gaze wandered to the other man in the picture, in the background, with a strong gaze, determined, yet somehow charming. The suit tailored and slim; auburn curls perfectly styled, smooth shaved.

A lot had changed since they last saw each other. Each of them had grown into the position intended for them. Theon a soldier, Robb a king. Even back then, they wanted to fight for different causes. But unfortunately, it never lay in Theon's power to decide, his job only to follow his orders.

So, now it was his turn to protect his king.

“Didn't you get another assignment today?” Asha's eyes examining and curious. She could always see right through him, as though through glass. His father didn't pay them any attention, so Theon nodded barely noticeably towards the television.

And her eyes went wide, but she remained silent. He'd find out soon enough. Though his father was truly the last of his problems.

—

“Do I look like I need a fucking babysitter?”

Sitting in front of the locked door, his hands on his knees, Theon sat there and listened to the rant that was going on in the other room. As if they’d not been able to discuss the subject before his deployment.

The other voices were quiet, appeasing, their remarks not able to be understood, but they were probably not very successful.

He kept waiting. Sometimes it seemed to him, as if his whole damn life consisted only of waiting.

Then the door next to him finally opened and he got up.

Sir Rodrik Cassel, the Commander of the king’s guard, stood before him, broad shoulders, with a sturdy stature. They knew each other from Theon's time in the military. At that time, he’d been his instructor. And Robb’s. Something, that felt like centuries ago.

“Sergeant,” he greeted him, holding out his hand.

Theon took it with a little smile. “Sir. Good to see you.”

Cassel nodded and then stepped aside, allowing Theon to enter the room.

And there he sat. Behind a large oak desk, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, the curls tousled, as if he had driven through them several times with his hands.

His mother standing next to him, buttoned up, as he knew her from television. Stone faced. She was his closest advisor since his father had died and Robb had become king. At least, that’s what Theon had read in the files.

When Robb finally looked up, his face was hard, impenetrable. The mask of a king and nothing more to see of the emotion, that must have prevailed there a few minutes ago.

Theon bowed as he should. “Your Majesty.”

“Greyjoy,” he stood up, rounded the table and held a hand to Theon. It was warm, his grip firm, but not too much, not too short, not too long. Whether he had practiced it or it was just a matter of course for someone in his position. “It's been a while, ten years? Or more?”

“Twelve, your Majesty,” Theon replied, when Lady Stark stepped forward.

“It's good to have you here, Sergeant. The murder threats against my son have increased dramatically in recent months. It’s good to know, that the authorities are intervening.”

“Yes Ma'am, at your service.”

Robb pulled up a brow, confusion in his eyes, but Theon didn’t show anything, let nothing slip. _Each of us seems to have mastered our role._ When someone else entered the room behind him.

A small man, with a small pointed beard on his chin, and dark hair with threads of grey running through. Theon recognized him as the financial advisor of the Crown. Baelish or something. He smiled at Theon briefly, then turned to the king, whispered something in his ear and Robb nodded.

“I have another engagement,” he explained, then turned to Sir Rodrik, “you might introduce the Sergeant to the rest of the team, fill him in as much as necessary.”

The last words maybe just a phrase, the usual procedure, and yet they had something bitter for Theon. _As much as necessary_. And so, it seemed, not more. Robb played his role well, politely and kindly, and yet, the ruler came out clearly.

As the king left the room, the rest of his guard followed hard on. While walking, Cassel asked about his kit, whereupon Theon pushed his jacket aside, showing him his Glock. “I’m well equipped.”

“That's good, because we don't have time for stopovers,” the old man told him, while they stepped outside, three SUVs already waiting for them.

Plugging in his headset, he took his place next to the driver, Sir Rodrik and the king in the back seat, the king's mother and Baelish in another wagon, they set off.

The roads were crowded, and yet their column could not be overlooked. Theon's gaze wandered from mirror to mirror, to Robb, who was concentrated on studying the papers, Baelish had given him.

“Cross the river and turn left,” Theon advised the driver, who’s gaze flicked just briefly into the rear-view mirror, asking for permission.

“And why would he do that?” Robb replied, meeting Theon’s eyes.

“The other route doesn't go straight through town, Your Majesty. Less chance of being seen.”

Robb snorted. “And how much longer would that take?”

“Depends on the traffic. Maybe fifteen minutes or twenty.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Robb said, returning to his papers. “In that case we’ll stay on this route, please, Jory.”

—

And that's how Theon's days went. Driving from one engagement to the next, meetings with some high personalities, openings of kindergartens, schools, hospitals. Interviews and speeches, in public or private, with Theon patrolling in front of closed doors, observing, standing still. Waiting.

When they reached the television studio, Theon was the first to get out, examining their surroundings. He stopped at Robb's door and blocked his way. The king rolled his eyes.

“All clear, Skipper,” Dacey Mormont confirmed, coming back from the building and Theon stepped aside, opening the door of the car.

“Will it always be like this now?” Robb asked, as he adjusted his coat.

Theon nodded, “My job’s to keep you safe, Your Majesty.”

“And making mine much harder as it seems,” Robb whispered under his breath, as he passed him by.

Though moments like these seemed to be reserved only for Theon, to everyone else Robb was always polite and courteous. Just the prince he was raised to be all his life. Full of a charming smile and attentive ears for the concerns of his surroundings.

Sitting there in the soft leather armchair, he listened to the babbling make-up artist, who powdered his face. Telling him, how much she loved the royal family; how wonderful his sister had looked at the last gala.

Robb put a hand on hers, “she’ll be very happy to hear that,” for the woman to beam all over her face.

When the host finally sat next to him, the whole thing repeated itself. A whisper, a smile, the usual giggling. Maybe it was enough to be the damn king and each counterpart lost one or the other brain cell quite alone.

“Well, Your Majesty, the Crown has never been so strongly committed to a certain political position, why now?” Margaery Tyrell threw her long brown hair back, crossed her legs, leaned forward.

Robb leaned back. “Perhaps such positioning had never been this necessary before.”

She smiled. “Don't you think it might bring more trouble to the campaign, than it does anything good for the people?”

“Well, not at all,” he made a pause, grabbed his glass from the table and drank a sip of water. “I think, instead it sets focuses on the more important things.”

“And those are?”

“Freedom, equality, peace. The world is changing, and we must accept that we’re no longer the great conquerors of the past. That we can no longer simply impose our system on other countries without them defending themselves.”

“Instead of closing our borders and trying to force others to open them, we should do just the opposite, set a good example as an industrial nation.”

Theon turned away to hide his face, closing his eyes and counting to ten. This was exactly the nonsense his father always complained about. Of course, someone who lived in the most secure building in the world could easily talk about opening borders.

Who knows who might enter the country like that?

Pale eyes appeared before him, a narrow mouth, lips wide and meaty. A grin and a blade, which Theon felt right on his skin, on the scars drawn along his back. Feeling the panic rising, his breath going faster.

_Not now._

He had to take action before it was too late. Before he lost himself again. Inhaling again, deeply just one more time, he forced his eyes open.

And suddenly, he was back in the studio, with his hands still trembling. He buried them in the pockets of his black pants.

—

The night had already fallen, when they arrived in Winterfell. Robb seemed tired and exhausted, didn't complain, just stood in the door and waited, while Theon controlled the many rooms, and finally came back with a short nod.

“You may come in, Your Majesty.”

He put his coat over one of the chairs, put the briefcase down and went straight for the bar. Took a bottle of whiskey, opened it and then held it out to Theon. “Want one?”

He shook his head. “On duty.”

Robb purred himself one, put ice in his glass. He turned around, leaned against the wall behind him, and closed his eyes with a sigh. Taking a drink, putting the glass back down. Looking back to Theon. “How come you're a policeman now?”

Theon didn't pull a face. “No longer ready for use abroad, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t have to call me that, when no one’s around,” the king smiled.

A small smirk spreading over Theon’s face as well. “It’s not so bad. Once you get used to it.”

Which caused Robb to laugh. “I’m glad someone’s gotten used to it.”

He took his drink and made himself comfortable in one of the big armchairs, offering Theon a seat opposite himself on the couch. He took it.

“So, is there a Misses Greyjoy?” he asked. “Sorry, if that’s to private.”

“No, it’s - there isn't one.” He scratched his neck. “The job makes it a little difficult, I guess.”

Something flicked over Robb's face, a look Theon had almost forgotten, he licked briefly over his lower lip. Then it was gone, and he raised his glass. “To lonely professions then.”

Theon nodded again.

Silence spread between them, not unpleasant, rather familiar. Perhaps it was this feeling that led him to ask the following question. “May I ask, Your Majesty, that interview you did on TV, did you mean what you said?”

Robb seemed baffled at first and did a little shake of his head. “Excuse me?”

“About open borders.”

They starred at each other, till Robb lifted his chin, “See, I don’t only say, what people want to hear.” He but his drink aside. “I’m about doing the right thing and making the hard choices.” With that, he stood up. “And I don't need you to share my views, _Sergeant_. Only protect me.”

This must have been his sign to leave. Theon stood up as well and made his way to the door. “Rest assured, Your Grace.” He bowed his head. “Have a good night.”

—

So, Theon knew Robb and the current prime minister were close, for Robert Baratheon to be an old friend of his father. It was obvious, he’d now support the cause of his younger brother.

But the more the meetings were piled up, the campaign went ahead, the more time they spent together, got to know each other, the harder it was for Theon to keep up his neutral face.

“Everything alright, Skipper?” Dacey asked, while they stood in front of the government building, waiting for the king to come out.

“Only bad sleep,” Theon replied, when he heard through his headphones, that Robb was on his way down.

“Wolf is on his way,” he passed on to his colleagues, so that Jory could drive up, when another car just entered the yard in front of the building.

Four people got out, three with golden hair, green eyes and the same arrogant expression on their faces. Tywin Lannister, baled and broad-shouldered, left the seat next to the driver and adjusted his suit jacket.

He looked around and his eyes fell on Robb, who had just come down the stairs.

Though Joffrey and his mother walked past him, their chins up in the air, eyes stubbornly straight. They didn't appreciate him looking, while Sir Jamie held the door open for them. But Tywin waited.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted the king and held out his hand.

Robb took it, with his typical sovereign handshake, his gaze not breaking the eye contact for even a second. “Lannister, what a coincidence.”

He pulled Robb a little closer to himself, shoulder to shoulder, to whisper something in his ear, and Theon's whole body tensed automatically. On alert, to intervene within seconds, but then Tywin let go of him again.

Robb held his gaze, his eyebrows twitched briefly, then he took a step aside. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Then Jory arrived with the SUV and Theon, on purpose, took the way between Tywin Lannister and his king to push the older man further away from Robb, went to the car and opened the door.

He heard a snort at his back, as Robb got in and took his seat, but by the time he turned around, the man had already disappeared into the building.

While driving through the city, Theon noticed, Robb was not absorbed in a stack of papers as usual, but instead, starred out of the window with an unfamiliar worried look.

“Everything's all right, Your Majesty?” Theon asked and met Robb’s eyes in the mirror.

“It’s nothing,” he replied and even smiled slightly, “maybe a little bit stressed.”

They drove around the next corner, the street now less crowded. They were not far from Winterfell, only two roads and they would drive through the big gate. The residence of the Starks, surrounded by high walls.

When suddenly the glass next to Jory's head broke.

One shot, followed by another. The noise barely audible, stopped by a silencer and yet it cut the air, as red blood splashing through the whole car. Jory collapsed, his head fell on the steering wheel and the vehicle lost control.

“Down! Down!” Theon yelled, he reached forward, over Jory's body and pulled the car aside.

With tires screeching, they hit another car, parked at the side, and came to a halt. Another bullet hit the roof.

“Fuck!” Robb screamed from the backseat, crouched down, his hands above his head.

Theon's heart was racing, his breathing heavy and his eyes wide open. He tasted sand in his mouth, the smell of sweat, hot metal and burnt skin. Pale blue eyes. _Predicting his death._

Then another shot was fired, and Robb screamed again.

And this noise, so frightened, it brought Theon back. Back to Westeros. Back in the car. Back to Robb.

“Stay down!” he shouted backwards, “the bullets could break the windows but not the metal.”

He tried to reach Rodrik or Dacey over the wireless, but the contact was broken. Robb gave a soft whimper and Theon reached around the seat for his hand.

“It's okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating.

Robb held on to him, as if he were the only tangible thing in his life, and Theon let him, pressed his hand back slightly. His eyes continued to scurry over their surroundings, from the mirror he saw the car behind them where Cassel and Robb's mother were sitting. A short distance away, between the apartment buildings, in front of a narrow side street.

Suddenly Theon heard a crackle in his ear, the signal seemed to be back. He fumbled at the microphone hanging from his collar. “Control? Seven-Nine. The wolf is TA. I repeat, the wolf is TA.”

“Received Seven-Nine,” the voice of a woman answered.

Backups were already on their way, arrival time approx. 2 minutes. They should stay in the car, not move. Another shot was fired, and the glass of the rear window burst into pieces.

Theon took a look past the bloodstained leather of the seat he was hiding behind, and discovered the shooter. With a gun pointed right at them, directly at their back, from the window of the third floor of one of the nearby houses.

“Control, sit rep, Seven-Nine,” Theon said into the microphone of his headset.

“Go ahead, Seven-Nine.”

“Shooter’s located, 1-5-0-0 feet away from the car. Third floor, fourth building to our left. Single shooter only.”

“Received, Seven-Nine. Now, stay down and wait.”

“Where is the backup?” Theon yelled, when another bullet finally hit his seat.

He got no reply.

“What’s going on?” Robb shouted; his nails dug bruises into the back of Theon's hand.

It wouldn't be long for the shooter to sieve his seat. And Robb was almost unprotected, if he only moved a little bit in the wrong direction, it’d cost him his life.

“You stay down,” Theon commanded and let go of his hand.

Without turning back, he got out of the car to the drives seat, opened the door, still crawling on the ground, and pulled Jory's body out onto the street.

Then he put himself behind the wheel.

“What are you doing?” Robb was still crouching on the floor of the back seats, luckily, not a bit moved.

“I'm taking you someplace safe.”

His chest raised and lowered at a hectic pace, another bullet hit the shell, as Theon started the engine. He engaged reverse gear and pushed the gas pedal all the way through. The blood was buzzing in their ears, but Theon kept going.

“We’re save now. Hold tight, Robb,” he said, his upper body turned backwards, his hands on the steering wheel.

They drove with screeching tires, further shots hitting the roof.

_Come on, only a little more_, Theon thought as he navigated the car into the narrow side street. The front was now directed at the car in which Cassel was sitting, gun in hand, pointing at the window from which the shots came.

They had made it.

“We’re save now,” Theon breathed, closed his eyes and opened them again.

The shooter now only saw the forefront of the car, the wall of the building to their left blocked the view of the rest. But Sir Rodrik stood in the wrong angle, couldn't catch him, from where they parked and who knew, when the fucking backup would finally appear.

_We have to act now, or he'll get away,_ Theon thought, reaching for his gun.

“Stay in the car,” he told Robb and got out again.

Pressed against the cold wall, Theon clasped the Glock with both hands. He looked over at Cassel, who shook his head firmly. But Theon just nodded, it was their only chance and time was running out.

He closed his eyes, took three short breaths and then took a step forward.

Turned, came in line of fire, stood facing the building.

And pulled the trigger.

The shooter's rifle tilted forward out of the window, now that its owner could no longer hold it. It hit the asphalt with a dull impact. The black M16 now lay in the middle of the road, red spots were visible on the white window frame, where the shooter had just stood.

Theon groaned, supported himself with his arms on his thighs and tried to calm his heartbeat. He was now hiding behind the brick wall again, had stepped right back after he’d fired.

When he looked up, his eyes met Robb's. Still sitting on the floor of the car, his face stained red, his eyes big, with an expression, that Theon's knees became weak.

—

When Theon's phone rang, it was long past midnight. He didn't ask why. Just put his suit back on, got in his car and drove to Winterfell.

The guard at the gate already awaiting him. He nodded and went on.

And hardly met anyone, as he walked down the long corridor to the king's chambers. Two guards standing in front of the door but stepping aside to make room for him.

Theon knocked and the door was opened.

Robb looked better as he’d left him that afternoon. Clean, freshly showered, newly dressed. But his gaze remained restless, rushed and confused.

He said nothing, just nodded for Theon to enter. He did, but only a few steps and then remained beside the door. Robb walked past him, sat back in the chair he'd probably been sitting in before, shifted the glass of whiskey, that had stood on the table in front of him, and poured himself another one.

“Police still don't know about the gunman?” he asked then.

“I don't think they tell me more than they tell you, Your Majesty,” Theon replied, and Robb looked up.

“You called me Robb before.”

“I know,” Theon whispered.

For a few heartbeats they just looked at each other, felt the air getting thicker and the tension increasing. Until Robb got up and walked towards him.

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.” Robb's voice now sounded like that of a king, even if his gaze told something else, “why did the backup take so long? I mean, we were under attack, you, me, my mother.”

Only then did Theon see, how hard Robb's hands were trembling.

“Who’d give that order? Hold back on saving your king. Who’d do that?”

“I think you should better sit down,” Theon suggested, but Robb did nothing of the sort.

He came even further forward, grabbed Theon's Jacket with both fists and pulled him even closer to himself.

“Tell me the truth,” he growled.

But Theon was no longer able to reciprocate. He felt Robb's breath on his face, whiskey, cigars, toothpaste, aftershave and him. Robb. The way he had smelled it before, the way he had tasted it only one time, in another live. Never been able to forget.

“This is a mistake,” Theon breathed, put his hands on Robb’s and tried to carefully push him away from himself. “I'd better go now.”

“Stay.” Robb's lips were moving more and more toward his, just a touch away. “Please.”

Theon closed his eyes, took a step back, tried to get distance between them again. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“I know you want it,” Robb said then, the tone of his voice already low and husky. “You've wanted it all along. The way you wanted it back then.” He inhaled deeply. “And I did too.”

Theon’s eyes snapped back open, meeting Robb’s, clouded with lust and this was the last thing, holding him back.

He lunged forward, grabbed his collar and pulled him close. Their face together, mouths crashing with full force.

And Robb met him with equal strength.

Something broke inside him, something he’d kept locked for far too long. Desire, so strong, it almost tore him apart. And he couldn’t remember the last time he felt _want_ this bad. He had wanted _someone_ this badly.

Robb moaned as he attacked his neck, sucked a spot below his ear, while he ripped his shirt out of his trousers. Toxic, consuming, almost drunken.

“I want you to fuck me,” Robb rasped, clutching Theon’s shoulders like a lifeline. “Please.”

His only response another groan, when Theon pulled the zip, dropped his trousers, touched him, finally. Robb threw his head back.

“Fuck, let’s -, let’s move to the bedroom.”

So, they did, stumbling together, never breaking the contact of their skin. Their lips locked like magnets. Melting within the heat of their bodies. Collapsing on the bed, a bunch of tangled arms and legs.

Theon held his wrists, pinned his king beneath him, while he rocked his hips almost erratic, overwhelmed by the feeling of pure lust. And Robb's eyes, no longer blue but black, showed him the same thing. How much he needed him, how much he wanted him. To feel alive. Too feel just fucking alive.

Another groan, when Robb reached for his ass, pinched him. Theon kissed him, like he was a starving man. Only Robb’s tongue could calm his hunger. The noises he made, as Theon bit down his bottom lip, the only thing stopping him from breaking apart.

Then he reached down again and started to stroke him, placing his mouth right next to Robb’s ear.

“Are you prepared for this?” he whispered, picking up speed.

Robb shook his head. “Are you?”

Fuck. He wasn’t.

“Shit,” he cursed, as Robb pressed their hips together again, rubbing himself on Theon, making him moan all over again. He was so hard; it was almost painful.

So, he moved down, not pausing for any kisses or teasing on his way, going right for Robb’s prick. And the moment he took him in, he felt how he melted.

No more holding back, pulling his hair, digging his nails in Theon's scalp. He arched his back of the mattress, leaving Theon drunken with power, just there between his open legs.

Smacking noises and loud breathing filled the room, followed by a deep scream as Robb came. Hitting Theon’s throat with full force, causing him to gag but he didn’t pull back. Continued, determined to take everything, while Robb started to whine, and his cum dripped out of the corners of Theon’s mouth.

Just then he let go. Stayed with his nose buried in Robb’s groin, inhaling his sweet scent of musk and sweat, and took hold of himself.

His hand moved frantically, desperately seeking for his own release. Already so close and yet so damn far away.

“Come on,” Theon groaned almost pathetic, out of breath, while Robb's body beneath him slowly calmed down.

The slapping of his skin filled Theon's ears, his vision blurred, his arm even cramping, muscles hurting, he came closer and closer. His breathing so irregular, that he nearly lost consciousness, black dots dancing before his eyes.

And then he felt it, like a tense spring that finally came loose, hot fire rushing through his body, fucking salvation. Over his hand, the sheets, Robb’s leg.

He collapsed right above him, as his heart rate returned to normal. Robb's hand stroked his hair gently and tender, when Theon twitched, but didn't move.

The world around him wavering, as he lay there, crouched together, kneeling naked, right before his king.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think by leaving comments and/or kudos! <3
> 
> And if you like, do hit me up on [tumblr](https://evax3.tumblr.com/) as evax3 :)


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